


The Business of Bunnies and Bugs

by LazBriar



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series), Helluva Boss (Web Series)
Genre: Adult Content, Explicit Language, F/M, Gen, M/M, Some Humor, Stolas is still a ho for Blitzo, Violence, that rhymed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:40:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25948225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazBriar/pseuds/LazBriar
Summary: Sarakk and Sarin, long departed from their time at the Hazbin Hotel, have been hired by the plucky Blitzo and his failing (succeeding!) business. With a pair of some of the most dangerous killers in Pentagram City, surely IMP's boss has made all the right decisions!A series on its own, following the shenanigans of Sarin, Sarakk, and their time at IMP.This collection branches off from the Thief, Spider, Hotel series (specifically the events after book 3).
Relationships: Blitzo/Stolas (Helluva Boss), Millie/Moxxie (Helluva Boss), Sarakk/Sarin
Comments: 11
Kudos: 14





	The Business of Bunnies and Bugs

**The Business of Bunnies and Bugs**

**By Laz Briar**

**I – Training Day**

A figure pair, one leviathan size – the other impish in stature (literally) stood opposite of a tall, understated apartment building of no particular elegance or importance. Like most establishments in the hellish domain, it was beaten down, pest infested, and dangerous, a shoddy patchwork of different bricks sporting boarded windows and moldy doors. A gathering for miscreants surviving on the scraps of Pentagram City.

“Hmm, yes. . .” muttered a voice. “Everything looks right. . . time is correct. . . they _should_ be there. . .”

Moxxie – Imp, married man, glorified employee – checked his clipboard of notes, hiding behind the safety of a family of bushes. His counterpart, not so much.

“Okay,” said Mox, peering through the shrubs, “This is your initial test! Let’s run through it again.”

He glanced up. He had to, because today was different. Today, IMP was fielding two new employees on their first contract job. They picked up the newbies not too long ago, much to the insistence of Blitzo (and the protest of Mox). One of the newbies, was, well, enormous.

Mox wasn’t sure if his associate heard him, given the fellow’s stature. “Um. Mister Sarakk?”

Two bulbous, mantis-like eyes of deep scarlet flicked down. A body bearing the musculature of a man chorded with strange, ancient muscle and an insectoid-carapace overshadowed Moxxie, features and structure of a dread locust fusing into a horrid being from days of old. Of Old Hell, Ancient Heaven, all the things they didn’t teach you in history Down Here.

“I’m very hungry,” said Sarakk, his voice like the fracturing of ice, a cold and frigid tone, intermixed with the clicking whirs of mandibles. “When do we food?”

Mox blinked. “When do we. . . _food?”_

“Food.”

The Imp cleared his throat. “We’ll break for lunch as soon as this job is done. Now, er, please Mister Sarakk, this is important.”

Sarakk narrowed his eyes where the Imp forced a friendly smile. Mox wiped a bead of sweat away, never certain what this creature was thinking. What possessed Blitzo to hire this thing, much less his girlfriend (or whatever), baffled Mox. Then again, so did many of the hundreds of things Blitzo did, but _this?_

This one, this beastly thing, was partly responsible for the complete and utter destruction of Valentino’s A-studio. No, that wasn’t true. _Entirely responsible._ No one had done that and survived, save for Sarakk, apparently. Mox wondered what line of control prevented the bug from just ripping his way through the city. Why didn’t he just eat Mox, right now?

“Nothing is more important than food. . .” Sarakk protested. Then, his antennae wiggled, and he imitated a gruesome smile. Was he drooling?

“Except the pretty rabbit.”

Ah, yes. The rabbit. The girl cloaked in white fur and wearing a scent of chemical death. Sarin was it? It was horrible. This was like lugging around a couple of crates filled with explosives. Blitzo truly lost his mind this time.

Mox, though, had a job to do.

“Look, please, this won’t take long. It’s very simple. I just need to test your qualifications in a live-fire environment. That contact in there – in _that_ apartment? He’s been on our mark list for a couple of weeks.”

Moxxie pulled out a pen, flipping paper on the clipboard. “Since it’s not a big job, really, it’s a perfect way to test your skills, mister Sarakk. We just need to do this nice, clean, and quiet.”

Sarakk said nothing.

Mox glanced at him, where the insectoid didn’t move. Hmm. He returned to his sheet, looking it over. “No need for cold feet. If you need a weapon, I’ve got a few suppressed rifles. If you want something personal, knives are good too. And I can give you pointers on. . .”

Shifting sounds. Mox looked up from his paper, noting Sarakk was gone. Well, not _gone,_ he’d wandered into the middle of the street. Blinking, Mox rose from the bushy cover. “Uh. Mister. . . Sarakk?”

Said Nephilim wasn’t listening. No, instead, a vehicle roared to a halt since the bug had taken space in the midst of the road, much to the infuriated agitation of everyone and everything. Mox boggled, shaking his head. Oh no, this was going terribly!

“Psst! No, _no!”_ he called over. “Quietly, _quietly!”_

As the insect continued to ignore him, Mox feverishly flipped back to his clipboard. Surely there existed a patch of notes to fix this situation? Oh, shit, what did the field manual say? Did they even _have_ one!?

“I don’t want to deduct points!” hollered Mox. “Mister. . .”

He trailed off. Sarakk decided to grab one of the vehicles which near crashed into him, a crowd of onlookers forming in the process. In a stroke of strength, the titanic bug hoisted the auto over his head, the driver squealing in terror as he fell from the driver’s seat, scrambling away.

“WAIT!” screamed Mox. Sarakk, in the meantime, “aimed,” and by aim, rather _hurled_ the automobile into the opposing apartment building as casually as a tossed stone.

“GANH!” grunted Sarakk, while the vehicle collided into the structure with a barrage of cacophonous sounds following right after. Twisting metal and crumbling bricks intermixed with the shocked screams of those living in the apartment consumed the air. Curses, jeers, even cheers? And then, of course, the explosion, a ravenous pillar of gasoline-born fire consuming the apartment while spikes of flame erupted every which way, crowning the apartment in angry burning blossoms. Victims screeched out from the inside, falling from windows in blazing piles.

One of them was the target. He was an unrecognizable blotch of body set ablaze, squealing and running around in circles.

Sarakk cackled and chortled, marching over to the flailing demon. He raised his leg, and in one titanic motion, crashed his clawed foot on the target, splattering him like a blood-filled balloon.

“PFFBBHBH!” snorted Sarakk. He hugged himself, imitating sounds of laughter, mandibles clicking. He looked back to Mox, who stared, impressed horror stretching over his features.

“Did you see that!?” commented Sarakk. “Awgh the way he ran around with his dumb little legs! Brughaghghgghh!”

Sarakk shook his head, stomping back to Mox as he scraped off the demonic matter stuck to his soles. “Ahhh. . . and now he’s dead forever.”

Mox gazed around, speechless, crowds of screaming sinners fleeing or taking pictures while the apartment complex continued to burn. He glanced at his clipboard, then to Sarakk, then frowned.

“I. . . I guess. . . he’s. . . technically dead. . .”

Sarakk looked down and swiveled his head in a complete horizontal motion. “None of that sounded like _eat-food-now.”_

-*-

Millie glanced from her stopwatch, hitting the timer.

She was done!?

“Good golly. . .”

Indeed, from the crowded dive – where noise and cantankerous voices once blared out from the thin windows, there was instead the groaning ambiance of the club music, set to. . . nothing. Nothing aside from the ghostly whispers of a cloudy white, a phosphoric veil leaking from the interior like a pale wraith. Millie heard about this gal’s exploits. Hell, she’d run jobs for years as a cleaner, according to her dossier. But to see it?

Millie whistled. “Minute and thirty-six!”

From the fog, a small silhouette emerged. Her dainty paws gracefully strut over a barely-breathing body, a demon attempting to crawl away from the poisonous air. The figure regarded him briefly, pressed the suppressed barrel of her modified _Tec-9_ against his head, and squeezed.

Aside from the general noise of Pentagram City, it was quiet as death.

Sarin approached Millie on the opposite street end, the white rabbit unstrapping her gasmask and letting it fall around her neck. She holstered the Tec-9, chemical cannisters ringing from her steps as she approached the Imp, bearing unblinking, blood-red eyes.

“She- _yoot_ girl!” appraised Millie. “Never seen a club go belly up so fast!”

Sarin tilted her head. “Ohh, thank you! But it was nothing, really!”

Millie shook her head. “Gal if that isn’t a big ol’ slice of humble pie. I thought this might take all night, or that Blitzy was crazy having you run this solo. Fool on me, I guess!”

Millie, like her husband – Mox – was an Imp, a petite shortstack with glossy red skin, black lips, wide eyes, horns, and a shock of dark hair. Her associate – the other “trainee” – was _just_ what she liked in a critter, like herself! Sarin – killer extraordinaire – gal of death-white fur and features of a rabbit, but demon all the same, carried the same kinda punch, _small but deadly._

Sarin waived a hand. “Miss Millie, please, I’m embarrassed. Mass killing is what I do best, after all. A well placed container, delayed release and. . .”

She gestured to the grim scene of death behind her, where bodies shuddered, melted, and warped from her toxin. “Voila!”

Millie chuckled. “If you say so, darlin, but that’s top marks all the way. Clean, quiet, efficient! This job’s been in our backlog for months!”

Sarin glanced to the club, leaning on one hip, her frame covered in a body-fitting hazmat material. “I wasn’t aware any of the _Splinterz_ still survived.”

“Roaches, darlin’, they find a way.”

Satisfied, Millie pulled out her Hellphone and took a snapshot of the building. “Good gosh, Blitz’s gonna freak. . . oh, and, darlin’ I was curious.”

Sarin affixed her eyes to the Imp. “Mm?”

“Why the mask? Didn’t your profile mention something about, I dunno, toxin immunity?”

Sarin laughed, head wobbling. “Oh, Miss Millie! That’s for making my target scream in fear, of course! Adrenaline increases the heart rate which pumps blood faster, thereby increasing the transfer rate of the agent payload. Nerve death happens faster!”

She was a little _too_ thrilled with her reasoning. “It makes me happy when my work goes well. It’s the smiles that keep me going.”

A real sociopath. Millie liked it! She finished her photo, sending the text to Blitzo with a barrage of heart and smiley emotes, stuffing it away with the stopwatch. On her clipboard, she penned in checks for Sarin’s efficiency, satisfied.

“Well we’ve got _plenty_ of those, gal-pal! Assumin’ the little shindig with your bug buddy went well, you two are a shoo-in!”

If Sarin’s smile could’ve faltered, it would be now.

“Go _well?”_

-*-

“Sir, sir, HEY! YOU GOTTA’ FUCKIN’ PAY FOR THAT!”

Sarakk’s large, hulking frame casually smashed through the vendor window, his multiple arms filled with some sort of meaty-food substance, glass falling from his body like rain. He jovially munched on whatever he’d found from _Marty’s Mystery Meatshop,_ much to the enraged protests of the staff.

As Sarakk shoveled something into his maw, one worker assailed him, only to find their head within Sarakk’s grip. He squeezed, the skull turned to pulp, and there were no other protests.

Moxxie watched with a defeated frown, staring at the carnival of carnage. The bug looked at him, offering a vague shape of pulpy, dripping pink. “You should eat. You’re tiny.”

Mox raised. “No. Thank you. Lunch is on me.” Like the Imp had an appetite, anyway.

Sarakk gulped another lump of questionable flesh into his mouth again. “Back in my day, a demon proper was as tall as one of these castle-y things.”

“. . .buildings?”

“Whatever.”

Moxxie sighed, interrupted by the jingle of his Hellphone. He pulled it from pocket, flinching when he saw the caller: Blitzo. “Oh _great.”_

With a sigh, he thumbed the screen and answered. “Hel-”

_“MOXXI! How’s my second favorite employee doing!?”_

“Second. . .?”

_“More importantly, how’s our train-sized-gravy-train-titan doing? Wait, wait, don’t tell me – amazing, right? Did the job flawless and all?”_

Mox hesitated. “Well. . . sir. . . actually he set a whole building on fire and he has _no_ understanding of stealth, subtlety or sneakiness. I think that’s going to be a problem if we-”

_“On fire? So, he killed the guy?”_

Mox frowned. “And at least a dozen others.”

_“But. . . he killed **the** guy.”_

“Er. Yes.”

_“Perfect, fantastic, wonderful, amazing! Oh, II had a good feeling about this one! I call it every time, haha!”_

“Sir.”

Blitzo’s charming voice crackled with laughs. _“Can’t hear you over all this future money we’re about to make!”_

Mox pushed his hand into his face, rubbed his eyes, and groaned. “Does this mean I can expect to get paid again, sir?”

_“Gotta’ go! See you back at the office!”_

Click.

Defeated, Moxxie looked to the new “hire” with uncertainty. Okay, sure, he was an Imp, from Hell, and part of his job was to assassinate targeted contracts in the mortal world. Hunting other sinners was good practice, but they couldn’t just let this thing loose Up There! That was _too_ far!

Wasn’t it?

Clearing his throat once more, Moxxie cautioned a few steps closer to his gorging counterpart, sidestep when a limb fell free from Sarakk’s grinding maw.

“Well it looks like you’re uh, in the clear,” said Mox while the bug looked down to him. Mox took a breath, reminding himself he was a professional, and so attempted a show of goodwill and camaraderie.

“So, let me be the first to unofficially welcome you to IMP!”

Sarakk squinted. “ _You_ are an Imp.”

“Yes, er, but so is our company name.”

“Why?”

Moxxie sighed. “I ask myself that every day.”

-*-

“CONGRATULATIONS!”

Later afternoon settled over the IMP office, the tall, horned building a recognizable pillar among its contemporary structures. . . mainly for looking entirely and completely out of place. But, the hour meant “training day” was officially done, and all staff had returned to the primary office for final review. Which, essentially, involved Blitzo showering the new staff with cheap glitter and confetti.

Mainly Sarakk.

In the meeting room, the leviathan insectoid had to shuffle himself into the corner, hugging his legs as he took up a fair chunk of space. His beloved comanion, Sarin, stood proud next to him, her white pupils centered on the overjoyed Blitzo. With Blitzo were the others – Mil, Mox, and Loona, the Hellhound.

“Oh this really _is_ one for the record books,” chortled Blitzo, swinging an arm. “Mainly because I can see our profit margins _sky-rocketing!”_

Sarakk wasn’t listening. “Can we go home?” he mumbled to Sarin.

“Not yet Ak-Ak,” she whispered back, “We’re being polite.”

“I hate being polite.”

“I know.”

Blitzo, in the meantime, drew a vertical arrow, scribbling dollar signs around it. “Didn’t I tell the rest of you? Ohhh but you doubted my brilliance, tsk tsk. I’m not pointing fingers. . .” he said, pointing a finger at Mox.

“But looks like the chickens _finally_ came to roost.”

Mox made a face. “What?”

Loona, propped in her seat, rolling eyes, didn’t look up from her Hellphone. “You’re not giving them those stupid shirts still, are you?”

“Aww, I think they’re pretty!” said Millie.

“What kind of boss would I be if I didn’t shower my newest, favorite soon-to-be-employees-of-the-month with useless garbage!?”

With a childlike enthuse, Blitzo snagged a pair of faded yellow shirts from a vague crumple of clothes, waltzing over to the bug and bun, his eyes glittering like a cat catching a mouse. “It’s never official until you get your IMP brand tee-shirts,” he said them, holding the shirts out. “I know, I know, I’m really too amazing. . . think of that like your uh, advance!”

Mox interjected, crossing his arms. “You didn’t actually _pay_ them sir.”

Blitzo waved a hand, dismissing the comment. “Atututut, money is in the heart and I’ve got lots of love to give!”

“You wh-”

The boss of IMP tossed over the shirts. Sarin caught hers, while the other landed on Sarakk’s head, totally and completely undersized, not even the size of his skull.

“Bet that’ll be more comfy than that fancy armor of yers, eh big fella?” said Blitzo, wiggling his hands.

“I’m not wearing armor,” Sarakk grumbled.

Sarin eyed her shirt which was too large and broad, like it belonged to someone else. “He’s not wearing anything.”

Blitzo paused, looking him over. “Oh. . . a naked psychopath? Well. . . what better way to spread fear into our enemies than with some full-frontal nudity!?”

Sarin folded the cloth under her arm. “Thank you.”

“No, no,” said Blitzo, “thank _you_ for being our golden ticket out of harrowing, life-crippling debt!”

“Speaking of debt,” intoned Loona, crossing her legs. “Your weird rich boyfriend called again.”

“Oooh,” cooed Millie, “Uncle Stolas?”

Mox shuddered. “We don’t need to call him uncle.”

As for Blitzo. “Ohhh. . . fuck me.”

Loona snorted. “Yeah, probably.”

Blitzo raised a finger, forcing a smile. “Uh, haha, excuse me juuuust one sec. . .”

Sarakk didn’t hear it. Sarakk, instead, heard the world “Stolas,” and if his eyes got any bigger they might inflate and carry him into the atmosphere. His ancient, Nephilic mind zapped to life. It couldn’t be, could it? The Old were long gone, weren’t they? Old Crabby Abby and his last chance of total annihilation was the last dying breath of ancients from the _Ars Goetia._

“. . .Lord Stolas?” he croaked in disbelief.

Sarin’s ear perked while the IMP crowd fussed over Stolas’ call. “Familiar, Akky?”

“I. . . haven’t seen him since the legions twenty-six. . .”

He stood (promptly hitting the ceiling), pointing a finger at Loona. “Talk-dog! How does the lord Stolas know the Imp?”

Loona peered at the locust, a light growl to her tone. “They fucked.”

Sarakk blinked, going quiet, his fuzzy insectoid mind processing the information for a few moments. “. . .it’s him.”

Sarin glanced to her bugfriend. “Everything all right?”

“Yes, I’m just remembering all the. . . invites to ancient orgies. . .”

-*-

Home was a concept quite unfamiliar to Sarakk. The eons spent lying in the ashen depths of Old Hell wasn’t luxurious, and time before – in the days of wars between Heaven and Hell – that wasn’t exactly a “house.” Tribes of corrupted Nephilim wandered in packs, certainly, but an actual interior, with sides and walls and these strange things called doors? He didn’t understand it. Why enclose yourself in a tiny jail, anyway? So many stupid, small, tiny rules made by stupider, tinier demons.

Only one thing, one creature kept him sane, only one person made sense.

“. . .and I think it went well. . .”

Sarin’s strangely harmonic voice rang through the apartment as she set aside her equipment, setting aside the bandolier of toxin-carrying cannisters, folding away her specialized Tec-9.

“. . .they seem nice and. . .” she went on.

Sarakk was listening but he wasn’t. He was observing the white rabbit, quite intently, in fact. It was a different, unfamiliar feeling. His eyes locked to her frame, watching her unfasten the body-fitting suit, the fabric falling from her frame. She might’ve been petite, _certainly_ smaller than he, but she was also – what was the word – curvy?

“. . .better than that mess with the Half. . .”

In the corner of the apartment, the bug couldn’t stop staring. “Uh huh.”

Sarin peeled out of her attire, set it aside, revealing her _very_ shapely body. She leaned, she bent, and her alabaster haunches pushed out.

Sarakk made a sound completely and totally unfamiliar to himself. “Erg. Rabbit. Meat.”

Sarin opened a drawer, folding away her suit. But she was so bendy and wiggly and she had a nice plump bunny butt and Sarakk was drooling!? Her hips went here and there while she spoke.

“Ak-Ak?” she said, glancing back. He didn’t say anything.

“. . .Akky, you’re staring.”

He opened his maw to say something. “Gah.”

Sarin looked him over, curious. She realized her prone state, how she’d been essentially shoving her haunches into view, bare as it were. “Oh. I see.”

“You can keep staring. . .” she said, a mischievous tone snatching her voice. “. . .if you promise to be a little less. . . hmm. . . destructive?”

A sense of logic returned to Sarakk. “But I like destruction.”

He stared at her rump again. Urgh. Rabbit meat.

“I like that more.”

Sarin chuckled, closing the drawer. She pranced to their bed, hopping onto it with the bug. Carefully, Sarakk put a trunk-like arm around her side. It was a touch Sarin bathed in, so alien, but so welcome. Because of her demonic makeup, she was hazardous to everything if they touched her fur. But Sarakk? His origins as a Nephilim immunized him – the only thing that could touch Sarin and not die.

It was as wholesome as a pair of WMD’s stored in the same box.

-*-

_“Bliiitzyyyy. . .”_

Blitzo grimaced as the familiar, effete voice cracked through his phone, the regal pitch of Lord Stolas trying to fuck him with his voice.

“Heeyyyy big guy,” Blitzo responded, clearing his throat. “What’s hootin’?”

 _“I already miss your humor, darling, and I miss all of you,”_ returned Stolas. Blitzo tried to play it cool.

“Hah, yeah, I guess I am a hot ticket what with my new A-plus hires,” said Blitzo, latching onto a different subject. Thankfully, Stolas bit.

_“Why yes, there was that too. Blitzy, do you know who you’ve taken under your wing?”_

Blitzo thought it over. He was pretty sure he didn’t miss anything. “A pair of mass murdering psychopaths?”

 _“Why yes,”_ hooted Stolas. You could _hear_ the smile. _“But one of them caused that pesky little roach Valentino an astonishing amount of trouble. And here I find you’ve got him under your thumb. I consider that quite the favor.”_

Blitzo scratched his head. “Favor?”

_“Oh, quite. You didn’t know? Val’s been out of commission for weeks now. And here I find my favorite little cherry pie has him wrapped up like a cute little gift. Were you thinking of me, Blitzy?”_

“Uhhh. . .”

_“Why don’t you stop by, Blitzy, and bring your new friends. This has opened things up, you know. It’s really quite exciting.”_

Blitzo didn’t realize Stolas had it so out for Val. . . but then again, who didn’t?

 _“You know what happens when I get excited?”_ continued Stolas.

Panicking, Blitzo chuckled. “HahahahgreatmakeanappointmentwithLoonabye!”

Click.

He wiped his brow. Phew. Stolas was a horny ol’ hoot, and probably the best lay he’d had in uh, ever. But he was _voracious._ And apparently, indebted? Seems like snaring the bug and bun yielded more benefits than he realized.

“I might actually be able to pay my staff after all. . .”

**Author's Note:**

> Bug knows what he likes, alright?


End file.
